by S E Zbasnik
“I don’t get how that ain’t confusing to everyone. ‘Squire Gavin,’ sounds like you’re calling him a squire and not me.” She folded her hands over her chest, causing the mail to dance.
Glomen wiped his hands on a towel already smeared in bird shit and turned his eternal sapphire eye on her. “There is no confusion. He is Knight-Captain Gavin, you are his squire.”
“The squire with no name,” she growled.
“Earn your mark and then you will earn your name back.”
Hayley was quickly remembering why she didn’t talk to the knights. The younger ones, the recently welcomed into the brotherhood were okay. Maybe prone to braying and drinking, but they didn’t bat an eye at the squires asking questions. There were a lot more of the old, wrinkled farts around here demanding everyone do as the old ways were done, and talking over anyone under the age of fifty.
Glomen, being the keeper of the birds — a job no one else wanted — was given special liberties to be a cracked nut whenever he felt like it. In this instance, he popped open a tin of dried wormwood and sprinkled it over jellied rock-cherries. Hayley didn’t hide her disgust as he popped the whole thing in his mouth.
“Good for the aches,” he said, barely chewing through the orange, red, and green mass. “Guessing you’re here for word from across the waves, same as everyone else been bugging me.”
“Well…”
“Like I saids before, birds return when they do. Pestering me won’t encourage them.”
Hayley bent close to the cage, the pigeons freed of their vital leg cylinders hopping back and forth on their perch. “What if I fed them that pepper jelly of yours? Bet that’d speed ‘em up a treat.”
“Don’t listen to her, sweeties. Squires are such brutes.”
She sneered at him but didn’t make any brutish response. So there was no message, no birds to even help prepare, nothing for her to do. Bored out of her mind, Hayley staggered back, when Glomen slapped a hand above his eyes and peered across the water.
Breath hung in his lungs, a glob of the jelly perched on the side of his mouth as the man froze in place. He stared at the horizon while Hayley did her best to not stare at the food on his face. “Ah!” Glomen suddenly announced, causing her to spring back, “here comes my baby.”
The smile rose on his face, scattering the jelly, but Hayley couldn’t see anything in the clouds. “Where?”
“Right there,” Glomen pointed at nothing but a speck in the sky, “flying steady just like ol’ Brandy knows to and…” The proud birder turned towards the left and color drained from his face. “Sonnofa…”
Glomen pivoted towards a box of bird supplies, leaving Hayley watching the skies alone. “What are you doing?” she asked when Glomen unearthed a great bell. Wagging his arm maniacally, a clanging erupted from the brass, Hayley clogging her ears while the birder screeched.
“Archers!” he shouted as loud as possible. A few knights and squires twisted their heads towards the bird man banging his bell. When Glomen pointed towards the castle, they followed suit. Panic erupted from the campsite, knights and squires extracting both short and long bows.
Hayley moved to hold her arms up, afraid she was about to be turned into a pincushion, but they shifted for the castle. There was little chance of their attacks striking anyone inside, but that wasn’t where they aimed.
Lining along the parapet walls like wooden soldiers stacked before a dollhouse stood the enemy. Armed with bows, they were all trying to take out the pigeon flapping its hardest back to safety. It was those archers that the knights aimed their arrows to, attempting to save the terrified bird.
Glomen hurled down the bell and gathered up a mass of suet in his hands. To Hayley’s horror, she watched as lines of black began to cut through the clouds. Most fell before they got near the increasing silhouette of a bird, but a few drew close. Way too close.
“Come on, Brandy,” Glomen called, his palm flat and raised high. He tried to waft the treat towards the bird that was now flapping as fast as possible.
“What should I do? What do you want me to do?” Hayley danced back and forth on her feet, needing to help.
“Get to the shore,” Glomen ordered. “Get ready to catch Brandy when she comes in!”
In the distance, Hayley heard the order of fire. The first resistance from their knights launched for the walls, but if it did anything to reduce the barrage she couldn’t see it. Flits of lines kept dashing past her vision, but Hayley’s eyes remained locked upon the white bird growing larger with every flap.
Come on, just a little closer. She eased to the shore, her foot digging into the rocky edge. Hayley kept the other leg anchored back as she reached as far as she dared. The tempestuous winds rattled her body, but she imagined herself to be a tree with roots deep into the earth. Nothing could shake that free.
More of the army’s arrows continued their descent to the choppy waters below. If they weren’t careful they might lose the bird too. Then what?
“Here, Brandy. Lovely dinner just for you,” Glomen continued to entice the bird. “Get ready, gel.”
White wings beat apart the blue skyline, Hayley’s entire body tensing. Just as the bird was about to pass overhead, its beady eyes on the meal, she spotted it. An arrow was coming directly for Brandy. It’d split her open like a melon.
Forgetting the high winds and fall below, Hayley launched into the air. Her palms clapped around the bird, trying to tuck the flapping wings in tight while she pulled Brandy to her chest. The breeze of the arrow skimmed right over her knuckle as Hayley and pigeon both clattered to the ground.
“Brandy?” Glomen shouted, racing to find Hayley curled in on herself. The breath was blown of out her body, but her fingers were wrapped around feathers. Slowly, she lowered her legs and parted her palms to watch a grey head twist around, and black, beady eyes glared at her for not being food.
“Thank the saints,” Glomen gasped. “Take the message off her leg,” he ordered. “I got to call off them archers.” While he picked up the bell, Hayley’s aching fingers slid off a scrap of paper rolled tight.
Flattening it on the ground, she read the single sentence order. “Attack the tower at sundown.”
Glomen whistled, drawing Brandy to the safe perch while he inspected her body. “Yep, just as I feared. From the Commander himself. Best get that to the council quick.”
Nodding, Hayley staggered to her feet, the scrap of paper pinched between thumb and finger. She heard voices calling out, trying to figure out what just happened. When Hayley lifted her head, she spotted Gavin. Excited, and to show that she saved the day, Hayley raised the Commander’s message high into the air.
A great wind blew off the cliffs, snatched the scrap of paper out of Hayley’s grasp, and hurled it to the water below.
Shit.
“What did it say?”
“Att—”
“Never mind what it said.”
“We should not ignore the Knight-Commander’s orders.”
“Knight-Commander? You expect me to believe the word of some…what are you? A girl?”
Hayley stuck her jaw out, wanting to punch someone in the face. For both their sakes, Gavin lingered close to her shoulder keeping an eye on her while the Council argued themselves into a stupor. Some believed what she read, others that Hayley just made it all up for fun. Because catching pigeons just before they’re skewered is a great way to pass the time. Surely all the frilly ladies will be doing it during their weddings next season.
“Anyone else find it just the tiniest bit interesting,” Calvin began, rising from his seat, “that the squire who insists we’re supposed to attack belongs to the loudest voice calling for action?”
“You…” Hayley began but Gavin thundered over her.
“If you have an accusation to make, have the decency to voice it beyond conjecture and hearsay.” His eyes burned into not only Calvin but every other knight that wanted to sit on their bums. It was a damn near even split, one half rar
ing to go while the other thought this was all done in haste. And there in the middle of it all was a scrawny fourteen-year-old girl who couldn’t get a damn person to listen to her.
Cal shrugged at Gavin’s harsh words, his hands sliding behind his handsome head. “Only pointing out the obvious here. We all know you’ve been itching to go after Freddy since we got here. Would have done it all by yourself too if not for Erin.”
Hayley whipped her head over at the other Knight-Captain. She’d been quiet, watching the proceedings with a careful eye but saying nothing. Had she really kept Gavin from running headlong into what had to be death? Judging by the woman’s grim pout and head bob, that was a big, fat yes.
Darkness dropped into Hayley’s gut. She’d been all gung-ho about that message, ecstatic to have anything to do beyond sitting around bored. She never weighed the idea that her knight might not come back. None of them could. Suddenly, she wanted to side with Cal and insist that she just made it all up.
“Our brothers and sisters are trapped behind enemy lines,” Gavin began.
Cal snorted. “Yeah, because…”
“This is not the time for blame,” Gavin interrupted. His head was high, eyes brimming in determination as the afternoon sun began to descend to the horizon. It would be night soon. “We can argue about who bears the brunt of fault after we have rescued our people, after we have brought them safely back into the fold. They are not expendable, no matter what the crown thinks, no matter how the Order views our numbers with cold disdain.”
That one caught a few of the grumblers, their reluctance fading as they sat up higher, eyes trailing the pontificating Knight-Captain. Gavin seemed to glow from the attention, his eyes amber fire as he paced between them. “If it were you or me trapped behind those bars, would we not want the same energy expended to free us? To save us? We are not tallies in a ledger, we are men and women — we bleed for the Order, and sometimes the Order must be called upon to bleed for us.”
A few hands slapped together, not really in applause, but his words stirred such a fervent zeal they couldn’t stop themselves. Even Hayley felt her spine lengthening and head lift higher. In doing so, she swung her eyes over at Cal who was staring at Gavin. The pair who were often at odds despite being friends reached over and clasped a hand.
“Like I, or anyone here, could stop Ser Gavin from running in and saving the day,” Cal laughed. “Just…keep ahead of me, oh great hero. You make for a great shield.”
Gavin snorted. “There will be much to prepare, we are not going in on the seat of our pants.”
“Turtle?” Cal asked, confusing Hayley, but Gavin seemed to understand instantly.
“Best approach. Erin?”
“Aye, I’ll work up the formation, but we’re gonna have to be quick. The sun will be down soon.”
Gavin turned to the horizon, his strong eyes narrowing as he whispered, “Indeed.”
“Why ya think the Commander wants us going in under cover of dark?” Cal asked, sidling next to the pair of Knight-Captains.
“Easy,” Erin answered. “He intends to slip a ship into the harbor and launch an attack beside the cliffs.”
“Risky,” Cal said.
Gavin shrugged. “It was how we managed the first time.”
“That’s great, well…” Cal yanked a mug off the puny table. Erin went to lay down a map, while the man downed whatever mead remained. “What? If you think I’m not going into this buzzed, you’re out of your mind.”
Dumbstruck, Hayley stood outside the group watching as they half spoke to each other. It didn’t seem to be in code, but she couldn’t understand a thing they said — words flinging back and forth, barely needing to be finished. Just as the sky turned a haunting pink-orange, twisting the lake to an unholy color, Gavin rounded her up and guided her to their tent.
“Armor me,” he said, his arms outstretched. “All of it.”
Nodding, Hayley began to work, doing her damnedest to make certain the knots were extra tight. As she worked her way up his legs, Gavin adjusting the tassets, Hayley tried to not shake too wildly. All around them was the sound of metal clanking together. No chatter between squire and knight, just the slow, methodical movements of preparing for war.
She kept flinching every time the metal caught, almost as if Hayley could already feel the blows the armor would have to defend. Stepping back, Hayley gave a quick once-over of the man strapped inside the can. It was almost impossible to tell it was him save the lack of a helmet. His star, his emblem, his shape was hidden and protected inside the shell. Was that what they meant by turtle?
“My sword,” Gavin said and Hayley pulled up the long blade. It bore a jet black grip with a hefty pommel that held a point at the end. The hilt was plain, thin in the middle before ending in wider knobs. Testing the grip against his gloves, Gavin wafted the sword before sliding it into the scabbard at his hip.
“Now the shield,” he instructed as if Hayley was green around the gills. She gulped, twisting the serpent shield around in her fingers until Gavin reached over and picked it free. His face was grim, but he didn’t yell at her. He only slotted the shield over his left arm as if it belonged there.
Hayley stared down at the other weapons — pikes, and short bows, and the like. “What should I carry?” she asked, her voice coming from someone else’s body. No way did Hayley — that street rat, that scoundrel, that criminal, that escaped slave — flat out ask what weapon she would carry into battle. As if she’d willingly go into it, knowing there was a good chance she’d die.
A cold hand thudded onto her shoulder, rattling the chainmail she forgot she wore. “You will remain here, Squire,” Gavin said.
“But…” Her head snapped up, eyes beaming into his. There was fear inside, inside of them both. Hayley wasn’t surprised to find it in her, but to see it in him threw her. He’d done things like this dozens, perhaps hundreds of times before. Yet, he was afraid. And he still suited up and went into battle? Why?
“You are not ready for this. Remain back with the other younger squires,” Gavin commanded. He bent over to pick up his helmet, but before slipping it on, a whisper of a smile twisted his lips. “And I know you heard me this time.”
“I, uh…” She was grateful he was leaving her behind but terrified. Terrified that he might fall and leave her all alone. Again.
His certain steps took him away from the tent, but Hayley raced after. “Gavin,” she called. When the faceless helmet spun back, she shrunk in place and muttered out, “Ser, um…”
“You look ready to leap into the fires of hell,” Cal shouted over Hayley, the man stomping towards them. He had a mace in his hand and a similar shield in the other. “Shall we test the devil’s spit tonight?”
“I would prefer a simple exercise, but take what I can.” Gavin’s metallic voice cut to Cal who, after accepting the inevitable, seemed to be ready to jump into the fray with both feet.
Hayley glanced over the imposing shoulders of the knights to find Marco dressed in partial plate himself and standing behind. He gave a strained smile and gentle lilt of his fingers at her, which Hayley returned. The movement must have caught Gavin’s attention as he zeroed in on the boy.
“Calvin!” he thundered. “You are not taking that boy into the fight with you.”
“Why ever not?” Cal turned back to Marco, whose entire face locked up, his eyes wide in fear. He didn’t seem to like being talked about. “He’s strapping, tall. If worse comes to it, we could use him as a battering ram.”
“He is a one year, not even. They remain, you know the rules,” Gavin thundered, clearly not about to give up an inch.
Cal bounded on his feet a moment before looking back at the strapping potential battering ram. “Very well, Ser By-The-Book. Squire, you shall remain with…what do you call yours again?”
“Hayley,” she answered for him, bristling at the battering ram idea.
The man snickered. “Whatever. Stay with her. Keep her from losing any other important
messages, will you?”
“Aye, Ser,” Marco’s voice rolled. He seemed torn at being ordered off the field, but the weak smile returned as he caught Hayley’s eye. Maybe he thought it’d be fun to torment her for the whole lost pigeon parchment like everyone else. It’d be her luck.
“The others are gathering,” Gavin said, before turning to Ser Cal. “Shall we?”
“After you, your shining beacon of lordliness.” Cal laughed, already striding towards the mass of knights.
Gavin took a step to join him when he paused and turned to Hayley. “Ah, there was something you wanted?”
“Just…” she shifted on her toes, “don’t die, okay.”
A sigh rattled inside his helmet and he tipped the whole thing down like in a bow. “I wish the same to you as well, Squire.”
With that, her knight and Marco’s joined the rest of the order before the gates of hell. Hayley tried to not chew on her fingers while the giant boy loomed over her shoulder. None of the knights held torches, only the bonfires of their cooking left to blaze — barely tended and thought to go out along with the sun.
Hayley remained in place, her eyes tearing through the mass of bodies forming into place. She caught what looked like Tish hanging out near the back, the girl wearing a breast and back plate but little else for protection. There were other squires too, the not first-years apparently. The ones trained enough to be trusted with pikes and the like who formed the end of this oncoming parade.
When the sun’s final rays crested their last of the day, the mass of knights moved as one. Cricket song was drowned out by the stamp of metal and foot, shields sliding all along the front and top of the Order. Oh, that was what they meant by turtle. She chuckled to herself at the sense, causing a head to dart closer. Hayley forgot Marco was still behind her, trapped in this waiting game same as everyone else.
“Perhaps we should…?” the boy whispered, his head jerking towards the others even as his eyes remained fixed upon the mass.